ITEMS........

............ALLEGEDLY NOT PURCHASED AT MIGHTY WAL*MART, BECAUSE I’M ALLEGEDLY TOO CHICKEN TO GO THERE:

—1) Our fantastical electronic roulette bathroom scale, assembled by Chinese child prison-labor, that renders a different weight each time ya stand on it, even when only separated by seconds.
—2) Our wireless wall-mount phone, which works fine if ya don’t mind the exposed dangling charger line.
—3) Our hardwired landline wall-mount in the master bathroom; which works and looks okay. —Our onliest successful Wal*Mart purchase.
—4) A portable radio/tape deck for the kitchen, which tanked in about five years, and is currently residing in the basement. (I taped myself on that tape-deck; supposedly to improve my speech.)
—5) A bunch of pot-holders, none of which satisfy: e.g. our “happy birthday” pot-holder, and the flowered pot-holders. (“Is this all they got? Jack, I thought this was supposed to be the greatest store in the universe.”)

Some of this was purchased in the old Wal*Mart, where I got snapped at by illegal aliens and grinning store-associates on donut-break; and had to avoid kissing geezer.
Other stuff was purchased at the new Wal*Mart (Wal*Mart story); better, if ya don’t mind parking in East Timor and hiking 300 miles barefoot in hip-deep snow across the vast wind-blown parking-lot to the store.

Following the incredibly sage advice of the all-knowing Grand Poobah wannabee, I once checked out an oil-filter at Wal*Mart for the so-called soccer-mom minivan, and Advance Auto-Parts, which is on the way to Weggers, wanted 25¢ less.

RE: “Too chicken to go there......” My macho, blowhard brother-in-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, noisily claims I’m afraid of shopping Wal*Mart. I just don’t like shopping Wal*Mart. He also claims I have never shopped there, but I have.

RE: “I taped myself on that tape-deck; supposedly to improve my speech.......” —I had a stroke October 26, 1993, which slighty compromised my speech.

“Jack” (“Jack Hughes”) is my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston.

“Illegal aliens” are the Wal*Mart checkout people; “kissing geezer” is the storefront greeter.

“The all-knowing Grand Poobah wannabee” is of course my macho, blowhard brother-in-Boston.

“The so-called soccer-mom minivan” is our 1993 Chevrolet Astrovan, traded two+ years ago for our Toyota Sienna van. My loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston called it a “soccer-mom minivan” as a put-down.

“Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua.